


I Love to Take a Photograph

by emphasisonem



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mild Angst, Photography, Photography student Steve Rogers, Writer Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9643568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emphasisonem/pseuds/emphasisonem
Summary: “Steve,” Bucky teases, a mischievous glint in his stormy eyes. “I told you to please let me know if you needed anything, and it seems like you might. My mother would have my head if I didn’t help out a potential customer, especially one she’s friendly with.”“You can say no,” Steve begins, shifting his weight nervously from his left foot to his right and back again. “It doesn’t have anything to do with antiques. I just- I need to take photos of people for my portfolio? And, um, when you walked into frame a minute ago, you really, um. Popped?”“I popped, huh?” Bucky grins, running a hand through his dark hair as his eyes appraise Steve. “Well, I suppose if that’s so, then I can hardly say no to such a polite request, can I?”In which Steve is a photography student and needs a subject for his pictures.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, WIPs. But those stories sadly require more time and energy and brainpower than I've had lately. For those of you who are wondering what's kept me so busy and haven't seen explanations in some other stories or on my tumblr, it's mostly work and bugging the ever-loving fuck out of my representatives in Congress. But I'm trying, I swear. 
> 
> This just sort of spilled out of me and I liked it. I guess it could technically be just a oneshot meet-cute, but I kind of doubt it'll stay that way. It feels like there's more waiting, but it hasn't made itself apparent yet. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this! In case anyone's curious, the title is from a lyric in Paul Simon's "[Kodachrome](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qrRRhoS3KFk)."

Steve wanders the small antique store around the corner from his apartment, camera in hand, surveying the dimly lit shop for good shots. Dust motes swirl silently in the mid-afternoon sunlight pouring through the windows, and the smell of cedar chips and old books permeates the air. Steve breathes in, inhaling the familiar scent with a smile. 

Steve knows he should be looking for someone to take pictures of instead of falling back on the comfort of capturing inanimate objects – his professor had told him he needed more photographs of people – but he’s more than a little nervous to ask someone to model for him.

And while Steve knows he appears intimidating to some- he’s a tall, well-muscled man- he still feels a lot like the shy, scrawny kid that he was until his late teens. So instead of approaching an actual human being, Steve focuses on the knick-knacks around him, waiting for them to speak, to reveal whispered secrets of some bygone era. 

He’s just about to snap a shot of an old bronze pitcher and wash bowl glinting dully in a beam of sunlight when a tall, dark-haired man walks into the frame to place a stack of old books onto a nearby shelf. 

“Oh, shit,” the stranger huffs out a startled laugh, clutching at his chest. “Sorry, pal, I didn’t see you there. Hope I didn’t ruin your picture.”

Steve lowers the camera, unable to take his eyes from the man. He’s nearly as tall as Steve, but where Steve is broad, this man is leaner, almost wiry. His dark hair is short on the sides and a little longer up top, swept back from his handsome face, except for a strand that falls toward his eyes. And those _eyes_. A deep blue-gray, the depths of which leave Steve a touch dizzy. 

“You’re new,” Steve blurts, eyes darting toward the floor. A gentle chuckle causes him to look up again. 

“Sort of,” the young man replies. “I used to work here when I was a kid, and I’m back in town for the foreseeable future. Bucky Barnes.”

Steve takes the stranger’s proffered hand and shakes it with a shy grin. “Steve Rogers. Winnie’s told me a lot about you.”

It’s tricky to tell in the strange light of the shop, but it looks like Bucky’s blushing.“Ma likes to brag.”

“She should,” Steve says, surprised by his boldness. “You’re an incredible writer.”

Bucky’s grin is bashful, but he’s clearly pleased by the compliment. “Oh, really? Did my mother lend you _In Light of Recent Events_?”

“Actually, no,” Steve grins, more than a little amused by the look of confusion on Bucky’s face. “I had another book of yours with me the first time I came into the shop, although I didn’t know it at the time. Imagine my surprise at meeting the famous Jake Buckley’s mother and finding out that Jake Buckley isn’t a real person at all, but the pseudonym of the critically-acclaimed James Barnes.”

“Oh Jesus,” Bucky mutters, and yeah, the guy’s _definitely_ blushing now. Steve thinks it might be the cutest thing he’s ever seen.“I mean, not that I’m not proud of those books to some extent, but I wrote those because I knew there was an underserved market for gay romance and I needed money. _We_ needed money.”

Steve nods, holding up his hands in a sign of surrender. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. But I loved those books. It was nice to read stories about two men falling in love just like anybody else. We don’t tend to get many happy endings in fiction. At least, not without some intense struggle for it.”

“No, we-” Bucky replies, blinking owlishly for a moment before smiling. “I guess we don’t. Makes it sound almost respectable to write cheesy romances when you put it that way. Well, it was nice to meet you, Steve. I’ll let you get back to your photos, but please let me know if you need anything.”

“Actually, I-” Steve starts before thinking better of it, closing his mouth and shaking his head as he smiles softly. “Never mind.”

“Steve,” Bucky teases, a mischievous glint in his stormy eyes. “I told you to please let me know if you needed anything, and it seems like you might. My mother would have my head if I didn’t help out a potential customer, especially one she’s friendly with.”

“You can say no,” Steve begins, shifting his weight nervously from his left foot to his right and back again. “It doesn’t have anything to do with antiques. I just- I need to take photos of people for my portfolio? And, um, when you walked into frame a minute ago, you really, um. Popped?”

“I popped, huh?” Bucky grins, running a hand through his dark hair as his eyes appraise Steve. “Well, I suppose if that’s so, then I can hardly say no to such a polite request, can I?”

Steve gapes, stunned by the easy acquiescence. “Really?”

“On two conditions,” Bucky smirks, and good _lord,_ how is it possible for one person to be so sexy? “One, you let me buy any of the photos I like for my next book jacket. And two, you come out for a drink with me sometime soon.”

“Y-you-” Stevestutters, not doubting that his face is flush with color as he attempts to corral his thoughts. “You want to have a drink with me?”

“And here I was thinkin’ the money would be what got ya tongue tied,” Bucky teases, eyes laughing as he grabs Steve’s hand and tugs him along. “Come on. We’ll start at the front of the shop and you can position me however you’d like as we go.”

Steve’s not sure if the suggestive tone in the brunet’s voice is real or imagined, but he just nods mutely and follows along, too captivated by the feeling Bucky’s soft skin against his own to argue.

 

* * *

 

“So, what do you need photographs of people for, Steve?” Bucky asks, reminding himself to breathe as the blond’s arresting eyes meet his. 

Steve is stunningly beautiful, the kind of man Bucky was sure only existed in romance novels and period films. Strong, sharp jaw. Lips so pink they’re nearly red, and as juicy looking as a summer strawberry. Eyes the color of a mythic sea, blue with a hint of green. Hair like corn silk, soft and fair. He’s an inch or two taller than Bucky, but where Bucky has the long, lean body of a runner, Steve’s built more like a swimmer with strong shoulders and a broad chest that tapers into slim hips. There aren’t enough words, no similes or metaphors, that could really do the other man justice, Bucky thinks.

And if his reaction to Bucky’s invitation to go out for drinks is any indication, Steve might also like what _he_ sees.Bucky warms at the thought, the idea of the blond desiring him in any way almost too good to be true. 

“It’s my major,” Steve replies as he fiddles with the lens of his camera, then holds it up, Bucky assumes, to check the focus. “I’m a student at NYU.”

“Really?” Bucky asks, not bothering to mask his surprise. “You look a little old to still be in college.”

Steve grins, and if that smile isn’t the single most perfect thing that Bucky’s ever seen, it’s damn close. 

“I am,” Steve replies. “I mean, I’m only 28, but in college years that pretty much makes you a senior citizen to some of the other students.”

Bucky nods, dying to ask what kept Steve from attending college earlier in life, but resisting. Bucky’s good at reading other people- it’s one of the traits that’s made him a successful writer- and he thinks that if he pushes Steve, pries too much, that the blond might get spooked. So he waits.

“You went to Columbia, right?” Steve asks, taking a few test shots and then examining them carefully. 

“I did,” Bucky answers. “I dropped out, though, after two years. My dad got sick and they needed me here. Medical bills piling up, the mortgage on this place and my parents’ house going unpaid. That’s when I started writing the romance novels. Self-published the first one under the name Jake Buckley and a national publisher picked it up. They were never best-sellers, of course, but they did well enough. Kept us afloat.”

“I’m, um- ” Steve says, voice quiet, gentle in a way that alerts Bucky to what the other man’s about to say- “I’m sorry about your dad. Winnie told me about it one day a couple months ago. I know a little about what that’s like. So, what made you write _In Light of Recent Events_?”

Again, the question is on the tip of Bucky’s tongue – _What do you mean you know a little about what that’s like?_ – but he swallows it down, answering Steve’s question instead. “One of my editors, a woman named Natasha, encouraged me to write something under my own name. Any genre I wanted. So I wrote a political drama, and now here we are.”

Steve nods, moving toward Bucky slowly and not at all surely. “It was good. Better than good, really. Are you interested in politics?”

“Thank you, Steve,” Bucky smiles. “Yeah, actually, I always have been. I was majoring in political science and journalism. I actually wanted to be involved in communications for politicians. A director, one day, or maybe a press secretary”

The smile on Steve’s face is bordering on sly as he asks, “So Tom O’Neill is you, then?”

Bucky laughs, a breathy, self-conscious sort of sound he’d thought he’d outgrown by now. He’s not sure why he’s so embarrassed; he’d hardly be the first author to write a self-insert protagonist. 

“Not exactly,” he explains, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, I used the knowledge I gained in college and my passion for the subject matter to inform the character. And he might have some of my mannerisms and patterns of speech, but he’s kind of an amalgam of a couple of people I know.”

Steve nods, seeming to mull over this information before he asks Bucky if he’d like a formal portrait-style photo or something more candid. 

“Why don’t we go more formal and see how that looks,” Bucky grins, settling back against an old bookcase as Steve aims his camera. “I’m supposed to be a serious author, after all. Might as well look the part.”

Steve is surer behind the camera, quick to ask Bucky to adjust his position if it’s not quite right. He’s efficient, but not cold; instructive without being overbearing. And when Bucky gets a look at the finished product, he actually inhales a soft gasp. 

“You are-” Bucky grins as he claps Steve on the shoulder- “Absolutely majoring in a subject that suits you. I’ve never looked so good on camera, Steve.”

“I doubt that,” Steve deadpans, and then seems to realize what he’s said and how close Bucky is, flinching back slightly as he blushes. “I’m sure you’re just, uh, naturally photogenic.”

“Don’t be so modest,” Bucky drawls, bumping his hip against Steve’s own, gratified by the slow smile that spreads across the blond’s face. “You’re a natural.”

 

* * *

   
  
“That you, sweetheart?” 

Bucky grins as his mother’s voice carries through the Brooklyn brownstone where he was raised. He shrugs out of his jacket, hanging it up in the hall closet before seeking her out. Winifred Barnes is at the stove, stirring a pot that Bucky guesses is beef stew, the heady scent of meat and potatoes a welcome treat on a cold winter evening. 

“Hey, ma,” Bucky grins as he kisses her cheek. “Smells good. You want a glass of wine?”

“Please,” Winnie replies as she sets the spoon down to sit at the kitchen table. Bucky opens a bottle, studying his mother silently. Winifred Barnes is as pretty as ever, but the passage of time and the hardships she’s endured are more apparent than they were a few years ago. The financial struggles of the past few years and the death of her husband have taken a toll, and Bucky’s heart aches for her.

“How was your day?” she asks, breaking his train of thought. “Not too boring down at the shop, I hope?”

Bucky grins as he sits down across from her, handing her a glass. “It was quiet, but you know me. I never mind the quiet. Good environment to be in when you’re trying to come up with another novel. But I did have one particularly interesting customer.”

“Oh?” Winnie inquires, and her lips quirk upward in a way that Bucky suspects means that she already knows _exactly_ who he met today. His mother’s always been able to read him like a book, and when it comes to matters of the heart, it’s possible she knows him better than he knows himself. “Do tell.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh before replying, “Steve Rogers. Ma, I cannot believe you sold me out to a stranger. I have a reputation to protect now; you can’t just tell people I used to write trashy romances.”

“They’re not trashy,” Winnie insists, honest-to-god wagging her finger at Bucky. “And I had a good feeling about him. He loves those books the way they should be loved. There’s something special about him, don’t you think?”

“He’s-” Bucky pauses, searching for the right words- “He seems like a good guy.”

“Awfully handsome, too,” Winnie continues, a sly smile so like Bucky’s own curling across her lips. 

“Mother,” Bucky warns, but his tone is teasing. “Don’t be gettin’ any ideas there. I don’t require any assistance with my love life. Or my lack thereof.”

“I was just making an observation,” Winnie replies, her tone light and airy as she stands from the table. “Now, how about some dinner?”

 

* * *

 

Bucky’s face lingers in Steve’s mind long after he’s finished minor edits to the photos. The smooth line of his jaw, the small cleft in his chin, the curve of plush pink lips rattling around in his brain like a snatch of some long-forgotten melody as he lies beneath a blanket, hands behind his head.

And it _is_ like something has awakened within Steve, a knowledge that had lain dormant until Bucky entered his field of vision. It’s silly that a few hours with a man he’d only just met had been such a seismic shift for Steve, and he knows this. 

But that doesn’t change the simple fact that it _was._  

 

* * *

 

The surprise on Steve’s face when he walks through the door to the shop the next day and sees Bucky behind the register is almost comical. Bucky smiles, biting back a laugh as he waves.

“Hey, Steve,”Bucky greets the blond as he approaches the counter shyly.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve replies, setting an envelope on the counter. “Wasn’t sure you’d be here, but I, uh, wanted to swing by and drop these off.”

Bucky nods, tearing the envelop open as he says, “I’ll probably be here most days for a while at least. My dad’s passing hit my ma pretty hard. She insisted she was all right, but I know her. She’s been lonely, and I can’t blame her. Rattling around in a big old brownstone by yourself isn’t real good for anybody, much less a widow. She needed a break from the house and from the shop. She’s started doin’ some volunteer work, and I think it’s really helping so far.”

Steve nods, and Bucky doesn’t miss the way his mouth tightens into a thin line, the way his blue eyes glaze over a little as he breaks eye contact with Bucky. 

_I know a little of what that’s like_.

The phrase ricochets through Bucky’s brain as he watches Steve, and he wonders if maybe that’s why the blond and his mother apparently get on so well. Some sort of shared sorrow. The knowledge of what it is to be alone in your sadness. 

Bucky pushes the thought away because if he doesn’t, he’s going to do something stupid like hop over the counter and pull Steve into his arms, stroke his hair and whisper that things will be all right. Instead, he tips the envelope so that the photos spill out onto the polished wood before him.

“Oh, _Steve_ ,” Bucky breathes as he lifts one of them. “You need to bring me more of your work. Not that these aren’t incredible, but I’d love to see what you can do with a more interesting subject.”

Steve’s eyes snap to his, and Bucky’s a little startled by the intensity in that gaze.

“You’re plenty interesting,” Steve insists, voice matter-of-fact as he grins. Bucky can’t help but return the smile. 

“I’m buying all of these, by the way,” Bucky chuckles as he leafs through the rest. “I’ll be set for book jacket pictures for years now.”

“You don’t have to do tha-” Steve begins, but Bucky raises a hand and the blond falls silent.

“I know that,” Bucky replies. “But I want to. How much?”

“Really, you invited me out for drinks, that’s more than enough,” Steve’s tone is almost pleading, and Bucky admires the blush staining his high cheekbones. “Besides, the photo credit would be more than enough. Plenty of exposure.”

“Steve,” Bucky shakes his head, and he can feel the incredulous smile warping his mouth. “I didn’t ask you out for drinks to get free photos. I asked you out for drinks because I want to get to know you.”

“You do?” Steve seems genuinely stunned, and Bucky can’t help chuckling as he nods.

“Yeah, Steve,” Bucky tells him. “I do.”

“Tonight, then?” Steve asks, smiling shyly and not quite able to meet Bucky’s eyes. “If you’re free that is?”

“For you, Steve,” Bucky grins. “I can definitely make the time.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re turning red,” Sam’s gaze narrows as he watches Steve and then he gasps, clutching at his chest in mock surprise. “Steve Grant Rogers, do you have a date?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, I had to post _something_ for Valentine's Day, even if I think it's a silly holiday. Hope you guys had a nice day and that you enjoy this!

“Steve! How you been, man?”

Steve grins as Sam claps him on the shoulder, squeezing gently as the two of them stand in the lobby of the local VA. 

“I’ve been doin’ all right, Sam,” Steve answers. “Yourself?”

“Can’t complain. Glad you came by; I was gonna text you and see if you felt like grabbin’ a bite or somethin’ tonight,” Sam begins walking down the hallway toward the group therapy room, and Steve follows. “Maria’s out of town for a couple days, and it’s been a while since we hung out one-on-one.

“Well, I would,” Steve replies, eyes darting away from his friend’s curious glance. Steve begins helping Sam to set up the folding chairs that are currently lined up against the wall as he continues, “But I kind of already have plans tonight.”

“You’re turning red,” Sam’s gaze narrows as he watches Steve and then he gasps, clutching at his chest in mock surprise. “Steve Grant Rogers, do you have a date?”

“It’s not a date,” Steve huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I mean, I’m not _sure_ it’s a date. The guy let me take a couple of photos of him for my photography class, and I’m kind of friendly with his mom, and he said he wanted to get to know me.”

“Rogers,” Sam replies, and it’s a struggle not to laugh as the blond glares at him. “Please tell me that this is the writer son of the woman who runs that antique store you dragged me to a couple weeks ago. The one who writes those lovey-dovey books you adore so much.”

Steve’s blush reaches the tips of his ears, then, and Sam knows he’s struck gold. “Oh, Steve, this is _definitely_ a date.”

“Oh, god,” Steve groans, sinking into the folding chair beside him. “I should tell him I can’t go. I should call the shop and say I’ve fallen deathly ill. I can’t do this, Sam, I’ll just end up embarrassing myself and then I’ll never be able to go back to the shop and it’ll be just-”

“Or,” Sam interrupts, settling into the chair he’s just unfolded up so that he’s eye level with Steve. “You could end up having a really great time with the guy. If you’d like to imagine the best case scenario in addition to the worst.”

Steve chokes out something that sounds close to a laugh. “You’re giving me too much credit. I’m a goddamn mess.”

“But you’re a good mess,” Sam replies, smiling gently. “And he wouldn’t have asked you to hang out if he didn’t want to, Steve. Besides, how long has it been since you’ve been out on a date? You deserve to have some fun, man.”

Steve inhales a shaky breath, a tentative grin curling across his mouth. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I’m goddamn right,” Sam snorts, standing up. “Now stop your worryin’ and help me finish setting up for afternoon group.”

 

* * *

 

“Big plans tonight?” 

Bucky starts at the sound of his mother’s voice in his doorway, flushing at the knowing smile on her face. He’d been checking his appearance assiduously in the mirror to make sure he looks nice but not _too_ nice, a dead giveaway that he’s concerned with impressing someone. 

“Just going out for drinks,” Bucky replies, tugging at a loose thread on the sleeve of the rust-colored sweater he’s decided on. His mother tsks, shaking her head.

“Don’t pull at that, you’re liable to ruin it,” Winnie says, motioning for Bucky to follow her. He does, tracing her steps into her bedroom and smiling gratefully when she snips the thread from his sweater with a pair of scissors.

“Thanks, ma.”

“You’re welcome,” Winnie answers as she tosses the thread into the wastebasket beside her bed and places the scissors back in the drawer of her bedside table. “So are you going to tell me who you’re getting drinks with or are you going to make your mother guess?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, unable to keep a grin from his face. “I think you already know, but I’ll tell you anyway. Steve Rogers.”

Winnie nods, hazel eyes warm as she smiles. “I told you I had a good feeling about him.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves; it’s just me getting to know a guy who seems nice,” Bucky chuckles as he leans in to kiss her cheek. “I gotta go, though, I told him I’d meet him at the shop. I’ll see you later, all right?”

“I won’t wait up,” Winnie trills, and Bucky wonders idly if he’ll ever reach an age where his mother’s teasing doesn’t embarrass him just a bit. 

Bucky shivers as he steps out into the chill night air, double checking that the check he’d written Steve is safe in his pocket. He strolls briskly, anticipation coiling in his stomach as he wonders how the evening will pan out, and he tries to remind himself to keep his expectations in check. Because the fact of the matter is that James Buchanan Barnes is a hopeless romantic with a tendency to get attached far too quickly for his own good. 

Of course, the moment he sees Steve outside the shop looking like he’s stepped out of the pages of a _GQ_ spread, Bucky realizes that trying to corral his gut reaction to the blond is futile. Steve smiles wide when he sees Bucky, waving as the brunet walks up to him, and Christ, Bucky is so royally fucked. His heart stutter steps as he reaches Steve, and he wonders if the other man can sense his racing pulse. 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greets him, and Bucky nearly squeaks when Steve pulls him into a quick, tight hug. He manages to swallow the sound, which is a miracle considering the only thing he can really focus on is the warmth of Steve’s body against his own.

“Hey, Steve,” Bucky manages as the other man pulls away. “Glad you could make it. I, uh, I have somethin’ for you.”

Bucky reaches into his pocket, pulling out the envelope with the check inside and handing it over to Steve. 

“Thanks, Bucky,” Steve grins, ready to tear into the envelope. Bucky reaches out a hand, touching Steve’s own. Blue eyes meet Bucky’s, narrowed in curiosity. 

“Don’t, uh-” Bucky chuckles. “Don’t open it now. Wait ‘til you get home, yeah?”

Steve’s eyes narrow further as his lips twitch upward. “This is more than the amount we agreed on, isn’t it? Bucky, I can’t-”

“Steve,” Bucky replies in a tone that he hopes if firm enough to convince Steve not to argue with him. “It’s a fair amount for the excellent work you did. Trust me on that, all right?”

Bucky nearly laughs at the frown on Steve’s face; it’s clearly taking every ounce of his restraint not to fight Bucky on this. But Steve just sighs and says, “All right, Bucky.”

“Good,” Bucky claps him on the shoulder. “Now, let’s go enjoy ourselves.”

 

* * *

 

“So what do you do when you’re not in class or skulkin’ around antique stores?” Bucky asks, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. Steve can’t remember the last time he’s wanted to kiss someone he barely knows so badly, but he pushes the urge away as he answers.

“I work part-time at a hardware store in the neighborhood,” Steve replies with a smile. “And I volunteer at the local VA when I can.”

Bucky’s eyes widen at that, and Steve feels a swell of pleasure at the fact that he’d managed to surprise the other man. “You’re a vet?”

Steve nods, taking a swig of his beer, not missing the way Bucky’s eyes linger on his lips as they close around the mouth of the bottle. 

“Two tours in Iraq with the Army,” Steve answers once he’s set the bottle down. “Then one in Afghanistan. That’s how I can afford school. That and a couple of scholarships. Wouldn’t have been able to swing the tuition if I hadn’t gone into the service after-”

Steve stops short, wincing a little at the memories he’s dredged up. The days and nights spent beside a hospital bed, machines beeping endlessly, tubes snaking from a brittle body. Not that any of it had mattered; none of it had been enough.

Bucky’s hand on Steve’s shoulder draws him out of his thoughts, and the concern he sees in the other man’s eyes nearly brings tears to his. 

“Hey,” Bucky’s voice is gentle as his hand squeezes Steve’s shoulder. “You can talk to me about whatever it is that happened if you want, but you don’t have to, ok? Take a deep breath, all right?”

Steve does, inhaling and exhaling as Bucky’s hand trails down his arm and then back up again, trying his best to quell the emotions within him, as well as the panic that he’s already put a damper on the evening when all he wanted to do was have a nice time with a cute guy. There’s a sad smile on the brunet’s face like he already _knows_ , and Steve wonders if maybe Winnie’s told Bucky about what had happened. So, he asks.

“No,” Bucky answers. “I mean, I can read between the lines, Steve. Clearly, you’ve been through somethin’ that hurt you. But she hasn’t told me, and I haven’t asked her to. Not my place to do that, and it’s not hers to tell me.”

“I want to,” Steve says with a sigh. “Tell you, that is. Just- just not here. Not now.”

Bucky nods, silent for a moment before asking Steve about the kinds of books and movies he likes. Steve begins to talk, slow at first, then more animated, grateful for Bucky’s patience and understanding. The heaviness between the two of them dissipates quickly, and soon they’re having a lively discussion over whether Batman or Superman is the better DC hero before agreeing that it doesn’t really matter since Wonder Woman’s clearly the best.

 

* * *

 

They argue over who’s going to pay once the bartender signals it’s time for last call. Steve insists that he should pay because Bucky was good enough to pose for photos _and_ pay for them.

“And too much, at that,” Steve snips, but he’s smirking as he reaches for the check. Bucky shakes his head, snatching at the small leather folder. They tug it back and forth playfully, and Bucky nearly points out that he should be the one paying since he’s the one who asked Steve out.

Except, Bucky didn’t exactly make it clear that this could be read as a date, so he bites his tongue as Steve finally acquiesces to splitting the bill. 

They leave the bar, falling into an easy rhythm as Bucky walks Steve home. 

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Bucky questions, voice soft as their shoulders brush against each other, the echo of their shoes amplified in the cold, quiet air. 

“You just did,” Steve smirks, chuckling as Bucky’s shoulder knocks against his own with more purpose. “Yeah, Buck, you can ask me somethin’.”

“Why photography?” Bucky asks. “I mean, obviously you’re great at it, but what made you want to study it?”

Steve’s face is thoughtful in the dim light of the street lamps as they walk, and Bucky’s struck again by the beauty of the other man. 

“I guess I’ve always had kind of a creative streak,” Steve begins in a dreamy sort of tone, the soft curve of his lips making Bucky’s chest ache sweetly. “I draw and I paint, too, so I could have gone that route if I wanted to. But photography’s different. For me, at least, it’s about presenting overlooked things or people just as they are. A lot of people don’t think the world’s so great, and maybe they have a point. It can be harsh and cruel and ugly, but it can be beautiful too. Photography can help to show people that.”

Bucky’s mouth is hanging open when Steve’s eyes drift toward his, and the blond flushes to the roots of his hair. “That sounded really cheesy didn’t it?”

Bucky stops, grabbing Steve by the arm and shaking his head. “No, Steve, it didn’t. It sounded lovely and I think it’s incredible that you’re doing something you’re so passionate about. The world could use more people like you in it, y’know?” 

Steve’s smile is slow and bright in the darkness. “You really think so?”

Bucky answers without a moment’s hesitation. “I really do.”

 

* * *

 

Steve’s body is thrumming with anticipation as they reach the entrance to his building. He turns to face Bucky, finds the other man’s blue-gray eyes lingering on the curve of his neck before they drift up to meet his own. 

“This is me,” Steve says with a weak smile, heart fluttering like a bird in a cage as Bucky appraises him. “Thanks for, uh, walkin’ with me. It was nice of you.”

Bucky shrugs, a shy grin playing at his lips. “Happy to do it.”

They stand, a big, silent something filling the space between them. And before Steve knows it, he’s inhaling a deep breath and plunging forward into uncertain waters.

“Can I ask _you_ something?” Steve inquires, forcing himself to maintain eye contact with Bucky.

Bucky’s laugh is soft, and is it Steve or is the brunet suddenly standing much closer to him? “Sure.”

“Was this-” Steve swallows, nerves singing as Bucky watches him. For a moment, he considers abandoning ship, turning tail and heading for the safety of his apartment, but he forces himself to ask, “Was this supposed to be like a date?”

“Did you want it to be a date?” Bucky questions, and _god,_ Steve can feel Bucky’s breath on his lips and it’s all he can do to fight off a shudder. 

“Answer the question,” Steve replies, surprised by the command in his voice. Bucky’s eyes widen too, but he’s smiling. 

“So bossy,” Bucky teases, fingers trailing up and down Steve’s arm as their noses brush, and Steve’s not sure if he’s ever going to be able to breathe properly again. “I like that. And yeah, Steve. It was supposed to be like a date. I mean, that’s what I was hoping for.”

“Oh,” Steve hears himself answer, but his voice sounds far away as Bucky pulls back slightly and looks at him through half-lidded eyes. “Ok, good. That’s good.”

Bucky chuckles as he steps back, shaking his head. “You’re really cute, Steve. You should come by the store tomorrow if you’re not busy.”

And then Bucky’s lips are pressing against Steve’s cheek, warm and soft and sweet. Steve’s just about to turn his head to try to catch Bucky’s mouth with his own, but the brunet’s already a few steps away once Steve finally regains some control of his motor functions. 

“Good night, Steve,” Bucky smiles. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Good-” Steve stammers, a hand coming up to touch the place where Bucky’s lips had lingered not a moment ago. “Good night, Bucky.” 

Steve stands outside his building watching the long line of Bucky’s body until the brunet turns the corner and disappears from sight. He exhales a slow, shuddering breath before turning to unlock the door and heading inside to try to piece together why the hell a famous author wants to date a guy like him.

 

* * *

 

Bucky’s humming low and sweet as he enters the house, and Winnie smiles at the soft sounds of her son shucking his coat and hanging it in the closet. It’s been a long time since Bucky’s entertained the idea of romance; he’d been so busy helping them out and writing that he simply hadn’t made the time for it. Bucky turns the corner into their living room, and the dreamy smile on his face lifts her spirits so much that she can’t help her soft laughter. Bucky starts before noticing his mother tucked into a chair in the corner of their living room with a book, an empty cup of what was chamomile tea on the table beside her.

“Thought you said you weren’t gonna wait up for me, ma?” Bucky grins, curling up at the end of the couch closest to her armchair. “Whatcha doin’ up so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Winnie sighs, frowning at the concern in her son’s eyes. “Don’t you worry yourself; I’m just getting restless in my old age.”

Bucky chuckles softly, chin resting against his folded arms. “You’re not old, ma.”

“How was your date?” Winnie smiles, waggling her eyebrows. Her grin widens as her son lets out an undignified snort.

“It was good,” Bucky replies with a faraway look in his steely eyes. Bucky’s always resembled her more closely than his father, but those eyes are all George, and the thought causes a bittersweet twinge in her chest. “I mean, I wasn’t sure if it was a date-date at first, you know? I was tryin’ to play it cool in case he wasn’t interested. But it seems like maybe he is.”

“I knew you two would get on well,” Winnie winks, and it would seem that Bucky has had a bit more to drink than he usually does because he bursts into a fit of giggles and nearly falls off the couch. “And it looks like you had fun.”

“I did,” Bucky answers once he’s managed to collect himself. “ _We_ did. I like him, ma.”

“I like him too,” Winnie grins as she rises from her chair. “I think reading’s tired me out enough for tonight, so I’ll be heading back to bed. You ought to do the same.”

“Yeah, I will,” Bucky murmurs as Winnie places a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “Night, ma.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Winnie whispers, running a gentle hand through her son’s dark hair. “I love you.”

“Love you too, ma,” Bucky nods. “See ya in the mornin’.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky lies in his bed, hugging a pillow to his chest and wondering if Steve’s still awake. He can’t get Steve’s shy smile out of his head, nor the way those too-blue eyes of his crinkle at the corners when Steve laughs. 

Bucky wonders what it would be like to hold Steve in his arms, to wake up to those beautiful eyes blinking open as sunlight streams through his blinds. To kiss him slow and deep and gentle, the way he knows Steve deserves to be kissed. To feel Steve smile against his lips.

Bucky allows himself to drift, to imagine, to hope that he gets a chance to know what it’s someday soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My, my, this is a pleasant surprise,” Bucky smiles as he leans forward to peck Steve’s cheek. “Didn’t expect to see you quite so early, Rogers.”
> 
> Steve grins as he leans against the counter, running a tentative finger along the back of Bucky’s hand. 
> 
> “Well, I have work today, and then a night class, so this was really the only time I could pull off swingin’ by,” Steve replies.
> 
> “Miss me that much?” Bucky teases, and Steve can feel the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks, but he just keeps smiling as Bucky continues, “Couldn’t go one day without my gorgeous mug?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told WIP updates were coming! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this one. Lots of fluffy, teasing flirting :)

Steve groans as his phone begins blaring the _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ theme, rubbing at eyes that itch with exhaustion. He glares balefully at his phone as he swipes a thumb across the screen to silence his alarm, yawning as he stretches. Steve briefly considers going back to sleep – he has time before he needs to be at work – but if he doesn’t get moving now he won’t have any time to visit Bucky at the antique store. And considering neither of them had thought to get the other’s number last night, stopping by the shop to rectify that oversight is Steve’s top priority. 

Steve rolls out of bed, grabbing a towel before stumbling into the bathroom and starting the shower. He steps into the hot water with a sigh, and revels in the way his muscles relax under the spray. He grins as he thinks about the night before, about the easy connection he and Bucky seemed to share. A shiver rolls down his spine as he remembers the feeling of Bucky’s lips against his cheek, and he can’t help but wishthe other man had kissed him for real.

Steve dresses quickly and for comfort once he’s out of the shower- he’s got a six-hour shift at the hardware store followed by a night class, so an old pair of jeans and a plaid flannelbutton-up seems an appropriate outfit. He donshis coat after making sure he’s got everything he needs for the day and sets off in the direction of the antique shop. 

Bucky grins wide the moment he sees Steve, nodding in acknowledgement as he speaks with a smartly-dressed older woman standing at the register. _One sec,_ he mouths and Steve smiles in return. 

“Mrs. Henderson, c’mon,” Bucky sighs as the woman insists she won’t pay over $1,500 for the book sitting on the counter. “This is a first edition of _Leaves of Grass_ signed by the author. In really good condition, I might add. You know my ma would kill me for selling this for less than the $2,000 she’s deemed appropriate. It’d be disrespectful to Walt.”

“Well, the rare bookshop over on-” Mrs. Henderson begins, but Bucky gently interrupts.

“Mrs. Henderson, if you can get it less there, more power to ya,” Bucky chuckles. “But I’m not incurring Winnie’s wrath when she checks the books at the end of the month. Now, I can talk to her when I get home and _maybe_ we can knock a couple hundred off the price tomorrow mornin’. That sound fair, doll?”

Mrs. Henderson grumbles something unintelligible, but she’s smiling and nodding and Steve wonders if there’s anybody Bucky Barnes can’t charm into submission. 

Once the woman’s exited the shop, the full force of that charm is on Steve Rogers, and he’s having a little trouble remembering how to breathewhen Bucky smiles at him as he makes his way to the counter.

“My, my, _this_ is a pleasant surprise,” Bucky smiles as he leans forward to peck Steve’s cheek. “Didn’t expect to see you quite so early, Rogers.”

Steve grins as he leans against the counter, running a tentative finger along the back of Bucky’s hand.   
  
“Well, I have work today, and then a night class, so this was really the only time I could pull off swingin’ by,” Steve replies.

“Miss me that much?” Bucky teases, and Steve can feel the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks, but he just keeps smiling as Bucky continues, “Couldn’t go one day without my gorgeous mug?”

“Actually,” Steve chuckles, “I wanted to thank you for last night and then berate you for paying _way too much_ for those photos. But I realized I’d have to do it in person since I neglected to ask you for your number last night.”

Bucky laughs, a light flush coloring his cheeks, and _lord_ , but the man is pretty, Steve thinks. “Yeah, I was kind of bummed when it occurred to me that I hadn’t asked for yours, but in my defense I was a little distracted.”

“Were you now?” Steve asks, lips quirking into a smirk. “I wonder why.”

Bucky shakes his head, snickering as he writes out his number on a scrap of paper and hands it over to Steve. “Couple kisses on the cheek and all of a sudden you’re Cassanova, huh?”

Steve can feel himself beginning to blush, but it doesn’t stop him from grasping Bucky’s hand and tugging the brunet gently toward him.

“That reminds me,” Steve practically purrs, and he delights in the way Bucky’s eyes widen in surprise. Clearly Bucky’s not sure where this side of Steve has been hiding. To be fair, Steve’s not really sure himself, but he continues, “You got to kiss _my_ cheek, but you backed off before I had a chance to return the favor last night. Just a moment ago, too, come to think of it.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky replies, voice a little hoarse. The sound has Steve’s toes curling just a bit. “My deepest apologies, Steve. How can I ever make amends for such an error?”

Steve smiles and leans in, lips brushing against Bucky’s cheek gently, and the scratch of the brunet’s stubble against Steve’s mouth is intoxicating. He lets his lips trail downward toward Bucky’s jawline, reveling in the way Bucky shivers just slightly. Steve _really_ likes Bucky’s sharp intake of breath and the way the other man’s hand grips his forearm tightly as he presses his lips more firmly against the skin.

“Doesn’t quite make up for it,” Steve exhales as he pulls back, the slightly dazed look on Bucky’s face doing wonders for his confidence. “But it’s a start. I, um, I gotta go, but I’ll text you later.” 

Steve’s nearly at the door when he feels strong fingers grasping his bicep. 

“Bucky,” he laughs, turning. “Really, I need to-”

“I know, I know,” Bucky exhales a laugh as he lets go of Steve and runs hand through his dark hair. “Are you, uh, are you free for a second date sometime this week? Because I’m maybe already thinking about how much I’d like to see you again.”

“I think I can make the time,” Steve replies, unable to keep what he’s sure is a dopey grin from his face. “I’ll text you and we’ll figure it out, ok?”

“Ok,” Bucky nods, hesitating briefly before stepping forward and placing a quick kiss to Steve’s nose, and Bucky’s shy smile as he steps back is so sweet that Steve finds himself a little lightheaded. “Now, get. You’re tempting as hell and I don’t wanna make you late for work.” 

To say Steve is reluctant to leave would be the understatement of the century, but he figures daydreaming about the feeling of Bucky’s skin against his lips will make his shift much more enjoyable than usual.

* * *

 

Bucky’d been so stunned by the feel of Steve’s lips against his cheek that getting the blond’s number had gone right out of his head. The only thought he’d seemed capable of in that moment was wondering what those lips would feel like against his own.

And _maybe_ wondering what they’d feel like other places too.

Bucky itches to send Steve a quick text, something cute that’ll make him smile during a break at the hardware store, but he’sgot to wait for Steve to make the first move. The waiting wouldn’t be so bad except he’s only had one customer since Mrs. Henderson left, and he’s going _crazy_ with boredom.

Bucky dusts antique bookshelves. Alphabatizes the books on one of said bookshelves. Polishes antique furniture. Sweeps the floors. Washes the windows. And _prays_ that Steve will text him soon. 

He’s just returned to the counter after grabbing his second cup of coffee from the small kitchen at the back of the shop when his phone chimes. Bucky nearly drops the mug in his excitement. 

A slow, easy grin stretches across his face when he sees an unfamiliar number and the beginnings of a message reading _Hey, it’s Steve..._

Bucky slides his thumb across the screen and reads the full text, smile widening as his eyes skim the words. 

_Hey, it’s Steve. It occurred to me that you forgot to get my number again, so I figured I should text you quick._

There’s a winky emoticon after the text and Bucky chuckles softly as his cheeks warm. Before he can respond, another message arrives. 

_How’s your morning going?_

Bucky’s smile widens as he types out a quick response. _Not bad, but it’d be better if you were wandering around with your camera. I’m kinda bored._

Bucky tries not to stare at the screen as he waits for Steve to reply, but it’s astruggle. He nearly jumps out of his skin when his phone chimes again. _I’m kinda bored too. So, I figured it’d be a good time to text and see when you’d be free to hang out again?_

Bucky can almost hear Steve’s voice in his ears, the hesitance, the way his voice would lilt up if he were standing here now. Bucky wants to tell Steve to name any day, time and place, and he’ll make it work, but he knows he’d probably come across as a little desperate if he goes that route. 

_You free Thursday night?_

Bucky waits with baited breath, smiling when another message flashes across his screen. 

_Thursday’s perfect. And I’m gonna come up with something for us to do,soyou have to let me pay this time. No arguments._

Bucky barks out a surprised laugh and then types, _You’re a punk, Rogers._

When Steve doesn’t respond right away, Bucky wonders if maybe he’s managed to offend the guy. The fear is alleviated when he finally receives a reply. 

_Yeah, but I’m your favorite punk, admit it._ The text is followed by an emoji sticking out its tongue, and Bucky chuckles as he replies.

_I admit it freely._

* * *

 

“Who is he?” Natasha asks, eyes narrowed as she observes Bucky from across the table. She and Bucky are supposed to be going over her notes on his latest book outline, but the redhead can clearly sense that Bucky’s not exactly mentally present. 

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Bucky replies primly before taking a quick sip of his water. 

Natasha rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. “Barnes, you have the dumbest, most lovesick look on your face that I’ve ever seen. Please don’t insult my intelligence like that again.”

Bucky sighs, chin in his hands as he smiles at his editor. “His name’s Steve Rogers. He’s a photography student at NYU.”

Natasha chokes on the iced tea she’s just swallowed, and it takes a moment for her to cough out, “A _college_ _student?_ James, you’re _thirty._ ”

“He’s an older student, Nat, give me just a little bit of credit,” Bucky laughs. “He’s twenty-eight. Started late because he was in the army.”

“Is he handsome?” Natasha asks with a smirk, laughing softly when Bucky exhales a dreamy sigh.

“Nat, he’s probably the most attractive human being I’ve ever seen in real life,” Bucky replies. “He’s a little taller than I am, but he’s _built_. Blond hair, blue eyes, strong jaw.And he’s so _nice_.”

“Lord, you _do_ have it bad, Barnes,”Natasha grins, shaking her head. “I mean, I’ve seen what you’re like when you get crushes, but this is just repulsive.”

“Keep it up, Romanov, and you’ll be hearing from my agent,” Bucky snarks, smiling up at their server as he sets their plates down. “Really, Nat, he seems like a great guy. We’ve only been out once, but I have a good feeling about it.”

“Well, then, I can’t wait to meet your beau,” Natasha teases before taking a bite of her salad. “Now that we’ve got all the mushy stuff out of the way, let’s you and I sort of this mess of an outline.” 

* * *

 

_I have a question for you, but I don’t want to distract from your class._

Steve chuckles as he reads the message from Bucky and types out his response. 

_We’ve hit our fifteen minute break, so distract away._

Steve leans against the brick wall of the academic building and shivers slightly in the cold night air. He stretches his arms skyward and inhales deeply, the smell of cigarette smoke drifting over from his classmates a few feet away filling his nose. It’s almost pleasant, Steve thinks.

He looks down at the screen of his phone, grinning when he sees Bucky’s sent him another text. He opens it, and he can feel a blush rising to his face as he reads it. 

_Yesterday night you said something about how you’re studying photography because you want people to see the beauty around them. Does that mean you think I’m beautiful? You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to; I was just curious._

Steve inhales a shuddering breath as he contemplates how to answer Bucky’s question. 

Maybe, Steve thinks, he should just be honest. After all, it's probably fairly obvious anyway. He types out a response, quick and simple.

_Yes. I do._

Bucky’s response comes just a moment later and it warms Steve from the inside out.

_Was hopin’ you’d say that. I’ll let ya get back to your class. And for the record, I think you’re beautiful too._

Steve can’t quite bring himself to care about the fact that the rest of his professor’s lecture goes right over his head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com/) if you'd like!


End file.
